


The 21st Century for Dummies

by exoccult, exohousewarming



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, Comedy, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, as an added bonus: zitao owns an occult shop & his bf is chanyeol lmao, brief mentions of gender bent xiumin just to fit the historical context & because xiuhan lol, yifan being scared of virtually every electronic device ever, yixing giggling a lot and having all the patience in the world for yifan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exoccult/pseuds/exoccult, https://archiveofourown.org/users/exohousewarming/pseuds/exohousewarming
Summary: A(n) (un)helpful guide to living life in the 21st century, written by Zhang Yixing.For the man who stumbled through my balcony and changed my life, Wu Yifan of the Ming Dynasty.





	The 21st Century for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt number:** 178  
>  **Side Pairings:** Chanyeol/Tao, Luhan/Xiumin  
>  **Warnings:** Brief Mentions of Physical Injury  & Blood, Implied Smut, Mild Language, Gender Bent Xiumin (Lady Xiu)  
>  **Author Note:** To the OP, I am so, so sorry. This fic went through numerous plot changes and a week before the final deadline, I scraped the entire project to bring you this… Thing. I hope I haven’t deterred from your prompt too much  & that you enjoy it, even though it’s probably not quite what you were expecting. This was only made possible thanks to my sweet peach. And, of course, thank you mods for your patience & everything in between.  
>  **PS:** The historical context for this fic is very much real (Emperor Chenghua and his son) except that Yifan's character is made up and so are XiuHan's characters.

**Introduction**

For as long as Yixing can remember, his small home in the city has been an unfortunate gateway between the past and the present. The first time it happened, Yixing was shocked and terrified, but years later, it no longer even phases him anymore. He recalls mornings when he’s woken up to clashing swords between knights, and other mornings when he’s woken up to the screeches of young maidens tumbling through his balcony. And, really, this isn’t normal and not something that people should be used to, but Yixing is.

In fact, he’s so used to it, he’s even broken it down into a science. These people tumble through his balcony, land in his living room, begin screaming at him and then Yixing simply pushes them back out onto the balcony and reads out this stupid incantation that was given to him by an occultist from some novelty occult shop down the street.

It’s never a dull moment in Yixing’s home, but at least he’s managed to make a living off of it, turning the stories of his historical _friends_ , as he calls them, into fantastic little novelettes that practically fly off of the shelves. So, Yixing gets to spend his entire time cooped up in his house with his laptop, writing away while strangers from centuries ago infiltrate his home. At least he gets something out of the rude interruptions that happen on a monthly basis.

Except, this little system he’s got going on is about to change, completely.

**Chapter One: Hong Kong is not the Afterlife**

When Yixing wakes up, he normally shuffles to the kitchen in his bunny slippers in order to grab a coffee before he settles in for a long day of writing. This morning is no different as he side steps over the man sprawled out on his living room floor, passing over him to start the coffee maker. He grabs the coffee pot from the cupboard and fills it- What? Oh, right, the man on the floor? Yeah, Yixing has woken up to stranger sights before.

Once the coffee is made, Yixing re-enters the living room with a steaming mug in one hand and his laptop in his other. Since he’s had a sip of his coffee, he feels a lot more awake and he’s able to actually focus on the stranger with his bleary, sleepy eyes. Yes, that is a man lying down face first on his hardwood floor, with long black hair and a dirtied hanfu. And, uh, blood? Yup, that’s blood - a whole trail of it all the way from out on the balcony to the middle of the living room. Great, just great.

“You better not be dead,” Yixing mutters, “Please, don’t be dead.” he pleads, reaching out with his foot to gently nudge the man’s arm.

The man groans and Yixing breathes a sigh of relief.

“W-Who goes there?” the man sputters, coughing as he tries to push himself off of the floor.

“Uh,” Yixing hums, “I do?” he offers as a response, reaching out to help the man.

“Who?” the man demands rather weakly, letting Yixing assist him in getting up.

Yixing doesn’t answer, because the man has suddenly lost all of his will to stand up on his own and has collapsed nearly on top of him. This wasn’t how Yixing saw this going, not exactly.

“You’re heavy,” Yixing grunts, trying to stand the man upright, “Come on, get up.”

The man grumbles and manages to stand if only briefly, his long hair still hiding his face. At least now that he’s standing, he’s not bleeding out on Yixing’s floor and if there’s a chance that he can just get him to the balcony then that would great, but- Shit, no!

“No, no!” Yixing exclaims as he loses his grip on the man and said man falls back into the loveseat behind him, his bloodied hands reaching out to steady himself on the arm of the seat.

Yixing grimaces at the thought of trying to scrub blood out of the upholstery and sighs rather loudly in frustration. If only he could get this man out onto his balcony before he comes to his senses and maybe notices that there’s something seriously wrong with where he is, then Yixing could recite the incantation and send this guy back to when he came from. If only.

The feat seems to be easier thought than done, because the minute that Yixing approaches the man again to help him to his feet, the man is already unsheathing his sword and pointing it directly at Yixing’s nose. This isn’t quite how Yixing saw himself dying - in his bunny slippers. Or by the hands of a man who’s crashed into his apartment.

“Where is this place?” the man demands, looking at everything all at once.

Yixing takes a cautious step back from the sword with his hands up in defense, “You’re in my home.”

“Where is your home located?” he asks, looking straight into Yixing’s eyes with such intensity that Yixing feels his heart leap into his throat.

Yixing swallows, “Hong Kong.”

The man blinks slowly, processing, “Hong… Kong?” he repeats very clearly confused as he drops his sword to his side, “I must apologize, I am unfamiliar with the myths and legends of this world.”

“Myths and- what?” Yixing scratches the back of his head - it’s his turn to sound utterly confused.

“Can you help me?” the man asks suddenly and Yixing is taken aback by the lack of response from the guy about waking up in his apartment.

“H-How?” Yixing stutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I seem to have been wounded in my journey here,” he grunts, “Is there a healer here who can assist me?”

“Uh,” Yixing opens and closes his mouth stupidly before he forces an awkward smile, “Why don’t I take care of it for you?”

“You are able to do so?” the man asks surprised, “Are you a healer?”

“No,” Yixing snorts, “Just a minute, er- what’s your name?”

“Oh,” the man smiles sheepishly, “I apologize for the delay in my greeting. I am Wu Yifan of Emperor Chenghua’s court.”

“Ah,” Yixing feigns his recognition, “Ming Dynasty,” he says, at least recognizing the name of Emperor Chenghua from his studies, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

It’s not every day that a person from history stumbles into Yixing’s apartment, even though sometimes it feels like it, and it’s certainly not every day when one of them actually asks for Yixing’s help. At the very least, this Yifan hasn’t screamed at him yet, so he figures it’s a good start to getting to know the guy and maybe planning a story for his next novel. Perhaps, Yixing then thinks, as he enters his bathroom to find the first aid kit, he should stop the man from bleeding out and dying first.

Yixing returns to the living room with a bowl of water in one hand, and a cloth and the first aid kit dangling from his other. He sets them down on the table, fully aware that Yifan is watching his every move. Considering the amount of strange activity that Yixing has seen happen in this apartment of his, he figures that cleaning a bloodied man from the Ming Dynasty should be the least of these things that makes him nervous. Yet, with those dark eyes observing him, he can’t help the shiver that tingles up his spine.

“Do you mind undressing?” Yixing asks, but as Yifan’s eyes widen he realizes how that may have sounded, “J-Just to your injury!” he flusters.

Yifan, eyes still wide, nods and begins to undo his hanfu enough to reveal his wound. Yixing cringes at the sight of it - it might not be exactly deep, but it still looks painful. Yifan doesn’t seem to react at all, just sits there on the couch waiting for Yixing to _heal_ him so to speak. Yixing kneels next to the coffee table and starts with wetting the cloth in the bowl of water.

“What is this?” Yifan asks, and Yixing looks over with his head to the side questioningly when he realizes that Yifan is patting the loveseat.

“It’s a seat,” Yixing explains, wringing the cloth over the bowl, “Where you sit.”

“Oh,” Yifan nods like he understands, but it’s clear to Yixing he doesn’t.

Yixing tries not to chuckle at Yifan’s childlike curiosity as he asks questions about this or that. Meanwhile, Yixing has managed to wipe most of the blood from Yifan’s cut and he moves to open the first aid kit. Yifan leans his head over Yixing’s shoulder to watch him remove small bottles and strange packages, placing them on the plain table in the middle of the room.

“What is that?” Yifan asks hesitantly when Yixing uncaps a small brown bottle.

Yixing doesn’t respond, he just pours the clear liquid contents of the bottle onto a small, white puff in his hands before looking back at the cut. It looks a lot less painful now that he’s cleaned up most of the blood, but he’s sure that cleaning it will hurt. As he gets closer to the cut, bringing the puff towards it, Yifan jerks away.

“W-What are you doing?” he asks trying to lean away from Yixing.

“Relax,” Yixing says softly, “This will only sting a little.” he explains, but apparently it doesn’t sting Yifan at all.

Yifan doesn’t provide much of a reaction to the peroxide Yixing is using to clean out his cut. It does bubble with white foam where there’s dirt and usually by now, for Yixing anyway, the peroxide should have caused some squirming or howling even. But Yifan just stays silent, watching with the same curiosity he’s had since he started asking Yixing questions. In fact, he barely reacts at all when Yixing gets to the center of the wound - where it is obviously cut the deepest - and instead of flinching, he just breathes through his nose a little more harshly. Yixing is pretty impressed.

“What is that liquid?” Yifan asks as Yixing twists the cap back onto the bottle.

“Peroxide,” Yixing says, holding the bottle out to show Yifan, “It’s used to clean out wounds.”

“It hurts,” Yifan says, but Yixing finds that surprising seeing as how Yifan hadn’t shown any signs of pain at all, “I was not expecting that anything would hurt in this realm.”

“What do you mean exactly by ‘this realm’?” Yixing finally asks, opening up a tube of cream and squirting a glob of it onto a bandage, “You keep calling this another world. What world are you referring to?”

Yifan watches as Yixing brings the bandage with cream towards his wound before he sticks it there. The cold cream feels weird against his cut, but nothing compares to the odd sticking feeling he gets from the outer edges of the bandage. He’s surprised to see that the bandage has stayed stuck to his body even after Yixing has removed his hands.

“Well,” Yifan clears his throat, “This _is_ the afterlife, correct?”

Of all the things Yixing has heard from the strangers that have accidentally fallen through time and right into his home, this is new. He tries not to laugh, he really does, but Yifan sounds so innocent and ready to believe that he is, in fact, dead. Yixing contemplates playing along, but he knows he can’t or he’ll send this poor man back to the past with strange visions of the afterlife. With that, Yifan might be killed for sounding blasphemous and insane.

“Unfortunately, no.” Yixing says, putting the items he had taken out of the first aid kit back in, “This is not the afterlife.”

Yifan’s expressions changes in a matter of seconds. Instead of the calm, composed Yifan that had decided he was dead, he suddenly looks much more terrified and nervous. Yixing figures now would be a good time to push the man out to his balcony.

“I- I thought that-”

“You thought wrong,” Yixing sighs, standing up and stretching.

“You are not a spirit?” Yifan asks slowly.

“I’m just a human, like you,” Yixing says.

“What is Hong Kong then?” Yifan asks, looking terrified as his hand reaches for the hilt of his sword again. Yikes.

“Relax,” Yixing says in a gentle tone, “Hong Kong is the location of my home, in the year 2017- Don’t! Don’t do that!”

Yifan has drawn his sword again, but he looks more defensive than he is offensive as he points it at Yixing.

“What do you mean?” Yifan’s voice wavers slightly, “It is 1475.”

“It is 1475 where you come from,” Yixing corrects, “You’ve accidentally stumbled into my home, nearly six centuries later.”

“H-How could this be possible?” Yifan frets, standing up on his feet and stumbling back, “It cannot be.”

Yixing sighs, “I can send you back, if you calm down, okay?”

Yifan quickly pulls his robes back on, but he refuses to sheath his sword, “Tell me how to return.”

“You just need to step out onto my balcony here,” Yixing gestures to the glass door, “That’s where you entered from.”

“What is a balcony?” Yifan asks, sounding scared and Yixing smiles in an attempt to reassure him.

“It’s just a floor that is outside and above the ground,” Yixing explains as he opens the door, “It’s safe, I promise.” he steps onto the balcony and smiles back at Yifan, “See?”

Yifan nods slowly and walks towards Yixing, joining him on the balcony, “How will you send me home?”

“Just stay right there,” Yixing says, putting both of his hands up and backing away slowly, “I need to be inside there when I send you home.”

Yifan nods and stands on the balcony rather stiffly, his sword still in his hands. Out of everyone that Yixing has sent home, he feels sad for Yifan the most. First he winds up thinking he’s dead and then he ends up discovering that he’s not actually dead, but rather 600 years away from home. It doesn’t help that Yifan had also appeared with an awful injury, Yixing can’t imagine what he’s about to send Yifan back into.

Yixing sighs and picks up a small black book he keeps on the end table beside the door to the balcony. He flips it open to the page he’s had dogeared for several years now and recites the incantation he knows by heart. Except, when he finishes reading it, instead of a bright white light coming to take him away, Yifan is still standing on his balcony. _Uh oh._

“W-Wait,” Yixing laughs awkwardly, “I may have read it wrong, let me try again.” he says and he does.

Three attempts later and Yifan is still standing on his balcony looking just as lost and confused. Something… Has gone wrong here.

“You appear troubled,” Yifan calls out, “What is the matter?”

“Something isn’t right, this should send you home,” Yixing looks at Yifan in disbelief, “I don’t understand.”

“What are you saying?” Yifan asks sounding positively worried.

“I’m saying…” Yixing takes a deep breath, “I’m saying I can’t send you home.”

**Chapter Two: Put Your Damn Sword Away**

Yixing has never had to sit across from one of his “friends” from history for as long as he has had to with Yifan. Yifan looks terribly uncomfortable in the silence, sitting on his knees on the floor. There’s two cups of tea on the table in front of them, and neither have even thought about drinking it since Yixing brought them out.

Enough time passes that the steam tea is no longer steaming, and it’s simply become cold yellow-green liquid in a cup. And still, they have said nothing to each other. Until Yixing finally snaps.

“I’ll be back in a moment, just wait here.” He says, quickly standing to his feet from the couch and walking down the hall.

He pulls his cellphone from his pocket and urgently calls one of the three numbers saved in his contacts list. Three rings go through before someone on the other end picks up. Yixing takes a deep breath.

“Z.Tao’s Occultist Specialty Shop, how can I help you?”

Yixing lets out the breath he’s held in and almost laughs, “Zitao, it’s Yixing.”

“Oh,” the man on the other line, Zitao, says, “Hey. What’s up, ge?”

“I have a bit of a situation,” Yixing says, rocking on his heels, “You know the thing that happens every now and again when people come crashing in my apartment from different time periods?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, so someone is here now from the Ming Dynasty-”

“Really? That’s actually lit-”

“And I tried sending him home with that incantation your grandfather wrote, but it’s not working.”

The other end of the line goes silent for Zitao starts to laugh, “What do you mean it’s not working? My grandfather’s incantations always work.”

Yixing groans, “Listen, I need you to come help me out here.”

Zitao pauses, “I’m not sure how to help-”

“I will pay you,” Yixing blurts, “I promise, I will pay you.”

“I’ll be there in about ten.” Zitao says and hangs up.

Ten minutes feels like an eternity to Yixing. Especially when he comes back to the living room to find Yifan with his sword out and swinging it at the A/C unit. Yixing’s eyes widen with shock and he runs into the room, only to be stopped when Yifan’s sword swings in his direction.

“What are you doing?!” Yixing exclaims.

“This white box,” Yifan growls, “What beast is inside of it?”

Yixing becomes frantic to a point which is almost laughable - except he won’t laugh because Yifan is holding a very large, very sharp looking sword, “It’s an A/C unit! There’s nothing inside of it! It makes that noise when it starts working.”

“What is this A/C unit? What does it work as?” Yifan asks skeptically, and now Yixing can’t help himself from snorting into a giggle. Yifan frowns.

“I’m sorry, it’s an Air Conditioning unit. When the room gets too hot, it starts making the temperature of the room become colder. That sound is not a beast, it’s just the sound that the unit makes when it tries to cool down the room.” Yixing explains calmly.

Yifan’s cheeks grow red in colour and he lowers his sword, “I see,” he mumbles and Yixing finds it incredibly endearing, “I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Yixing reassures shaking his head, “Why don’t I get us some more tea?” he offers and Yifan nods.

“Yes, that would be pleasing, thank you very much.”

Once Yixing pours the tea, he brings the cups out to join Yifan who is, obviously, sitting on his knees at the coffee table. He’s seemingly studying it when Yixing lays both cups on the surface. He decides, what the heck, and joins Yifan across the table and sitting on his knees as well. Yixing notices that Yifan’s hand is still wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, but he figures he can’t really blame him for that.

Yixing slides a teacup to Yifan who actually accepts it this time with a bow of his head. He takes one sip and Yixing watches with a suppressed smile at the way the tiny teacup looks in comparison to Yifan’s rather large hand. When Yifan looks at him Yixing startles, grabbing his teacup and quickly taking a sip to hide the fact that he was definitely staring.

“This table,” Yifan says, “It is quite ugly.”

Yixing chokes on his tea and laughs, “Why do you say that?”

Yifan’s cheeks turn pink and he opens his mouth to respond when a knock startles him. He nearly drops his teacup back onto the table, standing abruptly as he unsheathes his sword.

“Who goes there?!” Yifan grunts and Yixing grabs his free arm to pull him back.

“Put the sword away,” Yixing squeaks, “It’s just a friend I called for. Don’t worry.”

Yifan does not put his sword away, but he does lower it as Yixing approaches the door. He peeks through the peephole and can see Zitao standing in the hall, wearing all black with kohl lining his eyes. If Yifan thought that Yixing was a spirit, he’ll probably think Zitao is a demon - Yixing both laughs at the thought and also prepares for the worst when he opens the door.

“Zitao,” Yixing greets and Zitao smiles before his eyes shift to spy the man in the hanfu.

“Xing-ge,” Zitao grins wider and pushes himself into the apartment, “Is this him?”

Yifan raises his sword again and Zitao nearly squeals, “Who is this?”

“This is Huang Zitao, he’s a dear friend of mine who is going to help send you home,” Yixing explains, “Zitao, this is Wu Yifan of Emperor Chenghua’s court.”

“Fascinating,” Zitao bites his lip and looks back at Yixing with a glimmer in his eyes, “He’s handsome.”

Yifan’s face burns red instantly at the comment as he lowers his sword and Yixing tries not to laugh out loud.

“Where’s the incantation you were given?” Zitao asks as he shrugs off his coat and walks into the living room.

“On the coffee table as always,” Yixing says, pointing and following after him.

Zitao spots the black book, opens it up and looks it over, “Alright, let’s give this a shot,” he hums, “You, handsome Ming Dynasty man,” Zitao points at Yifan and Yifan grunts, sheathing his sword, “Come here.”

Yifan follows and steps out onto the balcony as Yixing gestures for him to do so again. He stands there, looking rather out of place and put out (quite literally) and Yixing can’t help but feel sad all over again. When Yifan came to him, he was covered in blood and wounded terribly. It’s been only a few hours since his arrival, and yet something feels so lethargic about saying goodbye now when usually the most Yixing would let these people stay was about thirty minutes.

Zitao recites the incantation a total of three times and he would have done it a fourth if Yixing had let him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because Zitao is a stubborn kid who’s very proud of his craft, but this block in his career is really not helping that pride. Zitao only relents when Yifan insists that it’s useless and then they’re all sitting on the floor around the coffee table.

“I don’t understand,” Zitao whines, “This should have worked. There’s something on the other end that’s wrong.”

Yixing raises an eyebrow, “You think so?”

“Well if there weren’t, he wouldn’t still be here.” Zitao mutters, drumming his fingertips against the tabletop.

“ _He_ is still in the room,” Yifan interrupts in annoyance and Yixing scrunches up his nose cutely, because seeing Yifan getting annoyed with Zitao is kind of funny.

Zitao sighs and rests his head against the table, using it as a pillow and stares at Yifan across from him, “What happened before you came here?”

Yifan shifts, “I was in the midst of a conflict with someone.” he mutters quietly.

“Is that why you were injured when you appeared?” Yixing questions and Zitao looks intrigued by that even though he decides to keep his head down on the table.

“Maybe you’re dead,” Zitao suggests, making both Yixing and Yifan flinch.

“I am not,” Yifan defends, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, “Hong Kong is not the afterlife.”

Yixing laughs, playfully slapping Yifan’s shoulder, “He’s got you there.”

Zitao pouts and then sits up straight, “Give us a full account of the fight you were in.”

Yifan fidgets and then sighs, giving up his story to the two.

As it turns out, Wu Yifan is an imperial guard who had been entrusted with the very important task of taking care of Lady Ji’s son, who is also the true heir to the throne of Emperor Chenghua. The problem was that if the boy, Zhu Youtang, had been revealed to be alive, then Lady Wan would have had him executed. The kid was looked after dutifully by Yifan to the very end until he was reunited with the Emperor.

Emperor Chenghua had been so delighted that he awarded his trusted and loyal guard, Wu Yifan, a high rank in the court and gave him a treasured possession. This enraged Lady Wan, obviously, because she had intended to control the harem until she could bear a son to be named the heir apparent. When she found out that she had failed, she sent her own guards after those who had been involved in keeping Youtang a secret.

That meant that Yifan was among those who were targeted. In fact, Yifan was aware that they were going to come after him, so he had sought solace in the Temple when they found them there, praying. Yifan had been angered by their dishonorable act to attack a man when he was in prayer and at his most vulnerable, so he took up his sword and defended himself. Except when he was sliced with the enemy’s sword, he fell into blackness and woke up in Yixing’s apartment.

“Okay, first,” Zitao says after a moment of silence, “That has got to be the coolest story I’ve ever heard.”

“Zitao,” Yixing gasps, reaching across the table to slap his friend’s shoulder, “It’s his _life_ , not just some story.”

“Sorry,” Zitao glowers at Yixing as he rubs his shoulder, “And secondly, is that the sword that Emperor Chenghua gave you?” he asks, pointing to the sheathed blade.

Yifan nods, his hand squeezing the hilt almost protectively, “Indeed, it is.”

“Can I see it?” Zitao asks.

“Alright,” Yifan agrees after Yixing gives him a slight nod.

The sword unsheathed, provided it’s not pointed in Yixing’s general direction or at one of Yixing’s personal possessions, is actually rather magnificent. It’s in near mint condition considering it’s centuries old. Then again, Yifan had only just arrived that morning… Not the point, the point is… The point is really sharp. Oh God, that’s very sharp! Yixing just hopes it won’t ruin his new coffee table.

“This is very nice,” Zitao observes getting close to the blade, “Do you know what the inscription says?”

“No,” Yifan shakes his head, “I never read it.”

“Can I take a photo of it?” Zitao asks and Yifan’s eyebrows furrow instantly.

“What does he mean?” he asks Yixing and Yixing giggles.

“Nothing, nothing,” Yixing insists, “I’ll send you a photo of it later tonight, alright?”

Zitao nods, “I’d like to look into it if I can. I think I know why we can’t send our dear friend here back to his time period and it might have everything to do with this sword.”

“Bull shit,” Yixing’s jaw drops, “Really?”

Yifan blinks stupidly before he leans closer to Yixing, “What bull’s shit?”

Zitao and Yixing exchange a look before they laugh. Yifan remains ~~udderly~~ utterly confused.

“Before you go,” Yixing says, following Zitao to the door, “Do you mind if you lend me some of your boyfriend’s clothes?”

“What?” Zitao looks affronted, “What do you want with Chanyeol’s clothes?”

Yixing shrugs, “I don’t have anything that will fit Yifan and he seems to be about the same size as Chanyeol. I can’t let him go around in that hanfu all the time. It’s pretty much ruined.”

Zitao looks over Yixing’s shoulder at Yifan, who looms behind looking rather protective and very much like the imperial guard he said he was, “Okay, fine. I’ll drop some off tomorrow morning.”

“You’re a peach.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Probably,” Yixing shrugs, “I’ll send you the photo later. Good night, Zitao.”

“Night.”

Yixing turns around after closes his apartment door and smiles at Yifan kind of awkwardly, “Well, I guess it looks like you’re stuck here for a while… May as well make yourself at home.”

Yifan shifts uncomfortably, “Will I be stuck here always?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Yixing says apologetically, “Until then, maybe we can get you used to living here? In the 21st century.”

Yifan shudders, “I am an imperial guard, I can handle change and difficult situations, so I am willing to adapt.” he says slowly, “However, so much seems to have changed. You will help me, correct?”

“Of course,” Yixing smiles and then notices that Yifan still wields the sword in his hand, “First thing, though, you should probably put that sword away. Most people don’t carry them around anymore.”

**Chapter Three: It’s Not Witchcraft**

Yixing wakes up in the morning by the sound of loud beeping in his ear, and a weight at the edge of his bed. When he opens his eyes and they finally adjust, he finds that he’s staring at a man with long hair, wearing a dirty hanfu and leaning over him with Yixing’s cellphone dangling between his fingers. Yifan looks both terrified and defensive, observing the object critically.

“What is this infernal device?” Yifan asks.

Yixing barely glances at his phone, groaning loudly and grabbing his pillow so he can push it into his own face. He wonders how long it’ll take for him to smother and die.

“Yixing,” Yifan grumbles, prying the pillow from his hands, “Yixing, it will not stop making noise. What should I do?”

“Nothing, nothing! It’s just my phone,” Yixing whines, snatching it from Yifan’s big, big hand,

“And that’s my alarm.” he mutters, sliding his finger across the screen of his phone to shut it off.

Yifan’s nose scrunches up and damn, why does that look so cute, “What is a phone?”

“It, uh-” Yixing scratches the back of his neck as he sits up in his bed, “It’s a device that you can use to call or send messages to people.”

“That is strange,” Yifan says, “Why does it make such noises?”

“It’s an alarm. It alerts me when it has become a certain time during the day.” Yixing explains, “Why is there a dent in the case?”

“Oh,” Yifan fidgets for a moment, becoming uncharacteristically bashful for an imperial guard, “I threw it when it first made a sound. I did not know what it was and I do apologize, but I realized it was not harmful after it did not get up to try and attack me.”

Yixing purses his lips to keep himself from laughing, but instead he ends up snorting loudly, “It’s fine, really, you’ve caused no harm.”

Yifan looks incredibly relieved to hear that and Yixing finds himself staring far more than he should. That is, until Yifan stands up, looking everywhere in the room.

“Your sleeping chambers in this year are very different.” he observes.

“I can only imagine,” Yixing says, slipping out of his bed and straight into his bunny slippers, “Did you sleep well?”

Yifan nods, “The couch, as you called it, is an interesting place to sleep, although I believe I am a bit too… Tall for it.”

Yixing rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and offers an apologetic smile, “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Good.”

As it were, kitchen appliances are much more difficult for Yifan to comprehend. It starts with the coffee maker and just works it’s way downhill from there. Yet every time Yifan unsheathes his sword, Yixing finds it incredibly endearing.

“What is that?!”

“Oh my God!” Yixing screeches, when Yifan’s sword comes down against the counter near the coffee maker, “Stop!” he laughs, “Put that away.”

“What is it?!” Yifan demands, his hands shaking just slightly.

“It’s a coffee maker.” Yixing explains, picking his mug up from the machine and showing it to Yifan, “Put that thing away.”

Yifan moves his sword away from the machine, but he doesn’t resheath it, “What does it do?”

“It’s a coffee maker… It makes... Coffee,” Yixing deadpans and motions for Yifan to come closer, “Come here, it won’t hurt you. Look,” he says, opening the top of the machine, letting the steam out. Yifan steps back in alarm, but Yixing just giggles and takes him by the bicep to pull him in closer.

“The water goes back here, the coffee grounds go in this front part and then you close it up. It beeps once the coffee is done.” he explains.

Yifan blinks, and shakes his head, “It makes it for you?”

Yixing starts to shrug when he notices he’s still holding onto Yifan’s arm, so he lets go immediately, “Sort of?”

He is just about to open his mouth to explain that the machine makes coffee if you include the ingredients and press a button, when the toast pops up from the toaster. That effectively makes Yifan jump out of his skin. The explanation is lost when Yifan starts to yell again.

“And that! What is that?!” Yifan shouts, pointing his sword at the small silver toaster at the other end of the kitchen counter.

Yixing grins, “It’s a toaster. If you put bread in the two slots and push down on the lever, it will warm or toast your bread. Once it’s done, the toasted bread pops up. That sound is the machine popping up the toast.” he explains, “Please put your sword away before you hurt one of us.”

Yifan hesitates, but puts his sword away anyway, “This world is very strange.”

Yixing spends the rest of the morning patiently answering Yifan’s questions and politely showing Yifan how particular objects work. Most vividly is Yifan’s reaction to the television, because, well, to put it mildly, Yifan hates the TV.

”There are people in there, Yixing!” Yifan hollers, swinging his sword towards the TV screen until Yixing practically jumps on his back to stop him from damaging the flatscreen it took him months to save up for.

“Stop, stop!” Yixing cries, “Please, don’t!”

Yifan tries to shake Yixing from his back as he attempts to swing his sword at the strange black box, “What sorcery is this? What magic put those people in there?!”

“None,” Yixing whines, “Yifan, please, it’s just a screen that projects images, the people aren’t trapped inside!”

“W-What do you mean?” Yifan asks, looking over his shoulder at Yixing, “What are images?”

“I’ll explain if you just put the sword down,” Yixing sobs, “Don’t damage it, it was expensive for me to buy, Yifan!”

In the midst of Yixing’s pleading and Yifan terrifying swings at the television, a knock comes on the door that interrupts them. They find themselves in an awkward position, where Yixing is still trying to hop on Yifan’s back and Yifan is holding onto Yixing’s thigh to keep him from falling over, all the while trying to swing his sword at the TV.

The knock comes again and they just look at each other, frozen in their stance until Yixing wiggles his way out of Yifan’s grip and rushes to the door. He just hopes that his face isn’t too red when he answers.

“Mornin’.” Zitao greets briefly as he lets himself into Yixing’s apartment - there’s a tall, gawky man standing behind him that Yixing recognizes as Chanyeol.

“Hey,” Chanyeol grins, “I heard about your new roommate.” he jokes.

Yixing sighs, “That’s because Zitao can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Rude,” Zitao calls, dropping a plastic bag on the coffee table, “I even brought clothes for your new roommate here.”

Yifan blinks in surprise at Zitao, “Clothing for me?”

Chanyeol steps into the livingroom and grins at Yifan, “Hi, I’m Chanyeol.” he greets, earning him a deep bow from Yifan.

“I am Wu Yifan of the Emperor Chenghua’s-” he pauses for a moment and freezes in his bow, “I, um,” he stands then, quickly, awkwardly, “I was of the Emperor Chenghua’s court…”

Chanyeol laughs to fill the silence, “Now you’re of the 21st Century.” he teases.

“It’s weird how well you accept these things,” Yixing says, poking Chanyeol, “Very weird.”

“I disagree,” Chanyeol smiles baring all of his teeth, “After all, I _am_ dating an occultist.”

“What is an occultist?” Yifan inquires.

“You know how you call everything black magic?” Yixing asks and Yifan nods, “That’s actual black magic.” he deadpans.

Yifan gasps and Zitao snorts into a fit of laugher, “Ignore our friend Yixing. Why don’t you go put on some of these clothes? I brought them all the way here for you.”

“Clothes?” Yifan looks at Yixing as if asking if this would be okay and only accepted the bag of clothes when Yixing nods.

“Thanks for this,” Yixing sighs, “I owe you one.”

“You know my bank account number,” Zitao laughs until he stops abruptly, “No, seriously, you know my bank account number.” he says, again, rubbing his thumb and fingers together like he’s expecting paper notes to appear between them.

“Alright, I get it,” Yixing groans, “Go on, get out of here you two.”

Chanyeol snorts and pulls Yixing into a hug, “That Ming Dynasty boy of yours is cute,” he whispers into Yixing’s ear.

“Quit it!” Yixing exclaims, flustered, pushing Chanyeol away.

Zitao and Chanyeol snicker all the way out the door.

“How do these clothes work?” Yifan asks, pulling Yixing’s attention from the front door - he’s got a white button-up shirt in his hands, holding it up in confusion, “Why do you wear such short hanfus?”

Yixing giggles and Yifan blushes, “It’s a shirt. Come on, I’ll show you how to put it on.”

Yifan’s first encounter with the bathroom is much less terrifying for him than the kitchen. There aren’t many gadgets in there that spontaneously make noises, and while it is modern in decor, Yifan at least seems familiar with the tub. The other amenities of the bathroom are strange to him, but he can at least tolerate them.

“You must be highly regarded in this Hong Kong,” Yifan comments, sliding his fingers along the edge of the tub, “This looks quite valuable.”

Yixing laughs as he takes the clothing from the bag, laying them upon the countertop of his sink, “I’m not exactly rich, Yifan. Everyone has a tub like that. People who are highly regarded have much bigger, nicer tubs in their home.”

Yifan looks at Yixing, astonished, “Time has changed many things.” he observes, “Even clothing has changed so much.”

“Trust me, this clothing is much more practical when you’re working.” Yixing hums and turns to regard Yifan, but the sight startles him, “O-Oh my god!” he squeals, spinning on his heels and turning away from a half-naked man.

“Is there something wrong?” Yifan asks worriedly.

“Nothing,” Yixing squeaks before he clears his throat, “D-Do you need any help getting dressed?”

“N-No,” Yifan sounds flustered as he lets the hanfu drop to the floor, “I can handle this on my own.” he insists.

It takes nearly five minutes of silence before Yixing peeks back over his shoulder. Yifan is still standing there, observing the shirt he has draped over his shoulders. Yixing furrows his eyebrows and turns around, avoiding at all costs looking down where he knows Yifan is definitely not wearing pants and certainly not any underwear… You know, as tempting as that may be.

“Do you need help with the buttons?” Yixing asks and Yifan’s head snaps in the direction of the shorter.

“Is that what you call these things?” he asks, holding onto the edge of the button up and dropping it again, “They are too small. I do not understand how they work.”

Yixing bites back a grin and removes Yifan’s hands from the collar of his shirt, where he’s still trying to figure out how to put the buttons together. He carefully takes a small button and loops it through the hole, and Yifan watches intensely as Yixing’s fingers pull the buttons together, closing his shirt.

Yixing finishes buttoning the shirt, actively avoiding looking down at Yifan’s, erm, exposed parts. Then he hands a pair of underwear and jeans to the taller male who looks at them curiously. Yifan looks down at himself and then at Yixing’s lower half before he accepts them both.

“These are…?”

“Underwear and jeans.” Yixing explains, looking away with a faint blush, “You just step into them. Underwear first.”

“Which one is… Which?” Yifan asks curiously, holding them both outstretched as he looks between the two articles.

“The white ones are the underwear,” Yixing explains, turning away from Yifan to stare at the wall - he figures that’s a safe bet.

Yifan doesn’t respond, instead slips into the underwear and then has difficulty putting on the jeans. Yixing waits a few minutes until he hears a loud bang and Yifan groaning.

“Are you okay?!” Yixing cries out, turning around and finding Yifan laying on the floor with his legs half in the jeans. Yixing really has to try not to laugh at the absurdity of the scene.

“These are very small,” Yifan explains, still trying to wiggle his way into the jeans, “Very tight.”

“Yes, well,” Yixing bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning too much, “They’re skinny jeans.”

Yifan grumbles and manages to pull the jeans up, buttoning and zipping them only with help from Yixing. Once he’s finally dressed, he takes his long hair into his hands as if he were to pin it into a ponytail, but then he frowns - his long hair with these clothes seems odd.

“What should I do about my hair?” Yifan asks and Yixing looks at him with eyebrows raised.

“What do you mean?”

“Zitao and Chanyeol both have short hair. You have short hair.” he says, but he looks sad, hesitant to even mention his hair at all.

“Oh,” Yixing smiles reassuringly at Yifan, “You don’t have to cut it, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

Yifan shifts uncomfortably, but he appears rather relieved, “My hair is very important to me-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Yixing smiles, “Besides, I like it. The long hair, it suits you.”

“Oh,” Yifan’s grows shy, “Your hair… Looks nice as well…” he says, fidgeting awkwardly.

Their eyes meet and Yixing’s insides burn like fire. The attraction he feels for Yifan in this moment is more than he’s felt for any of his past boyfriends and it’s immediately terrifying. Yifan licks his lips slowly, his eyes falling to stare at Yixing’s lips before darting back up to his eyes.

The room feels too hot.

“So,” Yixing says as he clears his throat, “Would you like me to show you how the things in the bathroom works?”

Yifan bites his bottom lip and nods slowly, “Does it involve any witchcraft?”

Yixing bursts into laughter and Yifan grins, a gummy smile spreading across his face that makes Yixing’s heart stop, “Not particularly.” he teases and Yifan looks scared and intrigued all at once.

With six hundred years between them, Yixing realizes that there’s going to be a lot that he has to explain to Yifan about the 21st century and the changes that have been made. He doesn’t realize that it means that Yifan will jump or yell at every little thing. It’s not that Yixing doesn’t expect him to react like a child being frightened by a horror movie. it’s just that Yifan is a guard and seeing an imperial guard from the Ming Dynasty become defensive over simple everyday things in the 21st century is actually quite… Comical.

Everything Yifan has seen so far is either black magic or witchcraft and Yixing is finding it increasingly more difficult not to laugh out loud. Not that he does a very good job of not laughing anyway, it’s just harder for him when Yifan grips the hilt of his sword when anything beeps or lights up or, god forbid, speaks back to him. It kills Yixing on the inside from just how cute it is.

“What is a selfie?” Yifan asks skeptically.

Yixing grins and points at the camera on his phone, “Look here.”

“Is that us?” Yifan asks curiously, moving about so that he can watch his image move on the screen of Yixing’s phone.

“Stop moving,” Yixing giggles, grabbing Yifan’s arm to still him, “Smile.” he whispers, looking at the camera to snap a photo.

Yifan looks at the image with surprise, “It is like an instant painting,” he says in awe and Yixing giggles, “Is it witchcraft?”

Yixing snorts, nudging Yifan with his shoulder, “No, it’s not witchcraft.” he explains, setting the photo as his lockscreen.

**Chapter Four: Where To Go From Here**

Yixing’s phone rings early in the morning, successfully waking him up so he can groan in annoyance. He grabs the device and contemplates throwing it the same way that Yifan had before, but instead he relents and answers it.

“Hello?” he croaks.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Zitao chuckles, “I’ve been researching that sword of Yifan’s.”

Yixing sits up in his bed, yawning, “Uh huh.”

“It seems to be enchanted with a spell. I found a few forums online discussing objects from the historical past, inscriptions and such when I found a translation of the inscription on the sword. Some friends of mine even helped me decipher it and I’ve come to the conclusion that the sword is what is preventing Yifan from returning home.

You see, it acts like a talisman that protects the person who wields it from harm. When Yifan was attacked, it sent him here to protect him, but he can’t go back until the harm is gone. But since Yifan’s attackers likely still want him dead, then he can’t go back home.”

“You say a lot of words early in the morning,” Yixing whines, “Simpler terms please.”

Zitao sighs, “Yifan can’t go home, because of the sword.”

“Ah,” Yixing murmurs, slipping out of the bed and right into his bunny slippers as per usual, “So, can you figure out a way to break that spell or whatever?”

“That’s easier said than done,” Zitao mutters, “But I suppose I can give it a shot. Give me some time to see if I can find something.”

“Alright, alright,” Yixing sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he enters the kitchen. He finds Yifan standing there, hovering over the coffee maker and staring at it critically.

“I’ll call you if I can sort something out.”

“I believe in you.”

“That makes one of us,” Zitao chuckles before hanging up. Yixing sighs and tosses his phone onto the kitchen counter, gaining Yifan’s attention.

Yifan stares at Yixing with an unreadable expression for a long time, looking him up and down before he decides to speak, “You are not wearing a shirt.”

Yixing’s eyes go wide and he looks down at his torso to find that Yifan is correct and that would explain why he was so damn cold, “Uh,” he says stupidly before laughing, “I guess I’m not.”

Yifan blinks confoundedly before he looks back at the coffee maker, “I am trying to make coffee.” he says, clearing his throat and hiding his pink cheeks.

“What for?” Yixing laughs and Yifan looks at him with a pout.

“I was going to make it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You always have a coffee when you wake up, you said so. I wanted to make a coffee for you so you did not have to, but this machine does not like me much.”

Yixing chuckles behind his hand as he slides up to Yifan’s side, “I’ll show you, but, first,” he looks over Yifan a moment and grins, “No sword.”

Yifan flusters easily, “I- I know it’s not witchcraft now,” he defends childishly, “I won’t try to slice anything any longer.” he promises.

“Good, let’s get started on this then, shall we?”

A week passes since Yifan’s arrival. He knows how to make coffee, sort of - if you can call the black sludge he often makes actual coffee (he’ll get the hang of it) - and he’s gotten used to the strange sounds of Yixing’s apartment. He still doesn’t have a liking for the balcony much, but he likes going out on it if Yixing goes with him and only if Yixing will go with him.

It’s only been a week, a single week, and Yixing is impressed by how quickly Yifan has adjusted to his apartment and life in the apartment. To be fair, though, it’s not like he had a choice. Yixing is pretty proud nonetheless when Yifan keeps his sword locked away in the spare room rather than constantly at his side. There’s no terror of him slicing the TV that way.

The fact that Yifan adapts to 21st century life quickly does not surprise Yixing and the fact that people tumble through time right into his apartment does not surprise Yixing and the fact that Zitao has decided to get a tattoo of Chanyeol’s favourite flower from his little floral shop does not surprise Yixing. There’s a lot of things that don’t surprise Yixing at all. What _does_ surprise Yixing is how quickly _he_ has adapted to living with someone else.

The whole reason Yixing refused to move in with past boyfriends or even to find a roommate to help cut down on his expenses was because he likes his space. And a lot of it too. Somehow, with Yifan there to dote on him during every waking second of the day, he finds that sharing isn’t so bad.

Yifan is actually pretty good at household chores, when he’s not jumping at the sound that the dryer makes when the clothes are dried or asking questions about how this or that functions or claiming witchcraft time and time again. He’s exceptionally good at cleaning, especially while he’s waiting for Yixing to wake up since he’s used to early rises. So when Yixing wakes up, he finds Yifan on his knees scrubbing the floor or washing the cutlery from last night’s meal by hand.

As time passes and Zitao consistently comes up with absolutely nothing every single day during his research, Yixing and Yifan start to share more details with one another. Yixing shares his boring life like an open book, but Yifan finds it entirely riveting to hear how one grew up in a different century.

Likewise, Yifan spills his stories and confessions from the Ming Dynasty with Yixing who takes notes in a small book. Yifan doesn’t ask, but rather he finds it incredibly endearing that Yixing wants to share his story with the world by writing a novel about him. He feels honoured to know that someone cares about him here in this century when back home, he was almost a nameless, faceless imperial guard. Except to a few people, the stories of whom he shares with Yixing.

“Luhan sounds like a nice man,” Yixing comments after one of Yifan’s stories.

“He was wonderful,” Yifan agrees and Yixing feels his heart drop just a tiny bit, “He was my best friend and I told him everything.”

Yixing nods along, scratching down Luhan’s name into his book and frowning, “Sounds like you two were close.”

“I will not play coy, I do know what you are implying, Yixing,” Yifan murmurs, “I liked him a long time ago- In my own lifetime, I mean. Maybe when I was younger. However, he carefully told me that he did not feel the same way. He ended up marrying a sweet woman who could give him what he wanted where I could not.”

“Oh,” Yixing blushes and twirls his pen in his fingers - a nervous habit, “What was her name?”

“Lady Xiu,” Yifan says, smiling fondly on the memory, “They were madly in love and I was happy for them both. A little sad, but happy. It was bittersweet.”

Yixing smiles and reaches out to touch Yifan’s shoulder, “You’ll find someone.”

Yifan looks into Yixing’s eyes a little shyly, “Perhaps.”

Yixing and Yifan watch as the green leaves of the trees turn to hues of orange and red as the summer comes to an end. Autumn is here and so is Yifan, still…

...And whoever else who has decided to pop in through Yixing’s balcony between the last few months. The spells always work on them, but Yifan decides to keep his sword next to the door for easy access when other sword-wielding psychos burst into the room. It’s be convenient to have him around, to say the least.

“I was never like this when I came here,” Yifan mutters, after a man from the Zhou Dynasty has been sent back in time.

“You would have been if you hadn’t passed out.” Yixing remarks, closing his little black book.

Yifan opens his mouth to protest, but then he nods, “You are correct.” he sighs, “At least you have me here now, to protect you.”

Yixing’s face flushes. Since Yifan’s arrival, Yixing has felt safer - aside from whenever Yifan takes out his sword and points it at anything that moves slightly. (He’s gotten a bit better at determining what’s actually dangerous and what’s not.) And Yixing realizes that he has rather gotten used to Yifan being around, even if the apartment is rather small.

The thing about the close quarters of Yixing’s small home, is that with anyone extra living in it, they’re bound to get up close and personal. For example, they’ve both had to come to terms with sharing the bathroom at times when Yifan decided to take a shower at the same time that Yixing needed to get dressed to meet with his publicist. Or when Yifan looms over Yixing when they’re both only half-dressed, so he can watch Yixing cook and take notes on how to cook.

It’s not until the middle of autumn, when Yixing wakes up with a start only to find that Yifan has crawled into the bed with him because he’s shivering from the cold. It’s right there, in that moment, that Yixing realizes he’s more than just comfortable with Yifan around. He _needs_ Yifan with him, because he needs someone to love and someone he can love in return-

Wait. What the fuck… Did Yixing just think about The L Word™?

Yixing has never been good at feelings. He’s good at handling ridiculous situations, he’s great at writings and he’s amazing (apparently) at teaching Ming Dynasty imperial guards how to adjust to the 21st century. But he is _not_ good with feelings. And these feelings he has for Yifan have come out of nowhere…

Except they haven’t. Not really. Yifan has been living with him for months now. They’ve successfully endured this weird twist of fate together, and through the lessons about the 21st century and through just simply lazing around the house and giggling with Yifan, Yixing has fallen head over heels. He doesn’t know quite when it happened, but he’s had his suspicions for a while.

But he’s not ready to face feelings! What if Yifan rejects him? Yixing would have no way to distance himself or to hide, because they live together in such a small place. What if Yifan laughs in his face or is disgusted by the very notion? Yifan has nowhere else to go if he chooses to leave. What if… What if! There’s too many ‘what if’s and Yixing is terrified of facing those consequences.

So, he does what he knows best - he ignores the hell out of his rapidly beating heart.  
When Yixing wakes up in the morning, Yifan is not in his bed any longer, but he can smell mild burning from the kitchen so he knows that’s where Yifan is - trying to cook breakfast. Yixing smiles to himself and gets out of the bed only to reach out blindly for a shirt to put on. He picks up Yifan’s, but he doesn’t care and puts it over his head anyway.

As Yixing arrives in the kitchen, he finds that Yifan is standing there, wearing his used-to-be-white apron as he scrambles burnt eggs in a pan. Yixing can’t help but smile at the sight as he enters and picks up a mug of less-sludge-like coffee that he knows Yifan has made for him. Before he can take a sip, Yifan turns to look at him with that signature, gummy smile of his, making a lump form in his throat. The idea that one day Yifan will go back home to the Ming Dynasty and he won’t be there to greet Yixing with that same, wonderful smile makes Yixing frown.

Yifan pouts, “Is there something wrong with the coffee?”

Yixing shakes his head, “No, I just remembered something I have to do.” he lies, looking away to take a sip of the coffee, “This is good. You’ve gotten better.”

Yifan smiles again and removes the pan of scrambled eggs from the heat just as the toaster pops, “I tried to make breakfast again.”

“At least you didn’t smoke out the place like last time,” Yixing teases and Yifan blushes bright red.

“That was an accident,” Yifan defends, scooping the eggs with a wooden spoon to put onto a plate for Yixing and another for himself.

Yifan has this way of pushing all of Yixing’s sadness away and Yixing forgets why he was upset in the first place. Seeing that smile and hearing his voice, it brings happiness to Yixing every single day.

“I’m teasing, you know that,” Yixing giggles.

“I know,” Yifan grins, holding out a fork of eggs to Yixing, “Try it.”

Yixing opens his mouth to take a bite and nods, “It’s better,” he mumbles with his mouth full, and Yifan laughs at the childish look on Yixing’s face.

“I’ll get the hang of it,” Yifan insists, smiling as he reaches out to wipe his thumb along the side of Yixing’s mouth to clean away the bits of egg there.

Yixing freezes. Yifan freezes. They stare at each other for too long, their eyes dropping to sneak glances at the other’s lips. Yixing curses himself - his heart is betraying him and he wants, _wants_ so badly to kiss him. He wants to grab Yifan and kiss the life out of him and the thumb touching the side of his lip makes his body tingle with the desire until he’s burning.

Yifan gulps and drops his hand before anything else can transpire between them, “You’re wearing my shirt.” he mumbles, looking down at his plate of food.

Yixing nods, “I am,” he whispers hoarsely, “I’ll go take it off-”

“No,” Yifan says too quickly, “You can wear it… You look… Smaller in it.”

Breakfast is shared in silence. Yixing spends most of it eating between editing the final drafts of his latest novel and e-mailing his publicist. Yifan begins cleaning and making tea as soon as they’re done, when a knock comes on the door. Yixing shuts his laptop quickly to answer the door before Yifan can. He needs an excuse to get away, even if just momentarily.

“Hello,” Zitao greets entering the apartment, “I come bearing some good news.”

Yixing’s stomach drops, “What would that be?” he asks, swallowing hard - he fears the moment he hasn’t been waiting for has finally come.

“Where’s Yifan? He should hear this too.”

“The kitchen-”

“Great!” Zitao beams, letting himself into the kitchen, “Ming Dynasty, how are you?”

Yifan looks over his shoulder as he pours tea into a cup, “My name is Wu Yifan.”

Zitao snickers, “Yeah, I know, come sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Yifan sighs and picks up the two cups of tea as he walks over to the kitchen table to join Zitao and Yixing. He offers the first cup to Yixing and the second to Zitao, who politely declines, so Yifan takes a sip of it instead. And then it all comes out.

“I found a solution,” Zitao explains, “To your predicament. I’m working on the potion in my shop today, it should be ready to go by this evening. I just thought I’d drop in on my way to work to let you know.’

“A solution?” Yifan asks slowly and Zitao nods, over-enthusiastic.

“We can send you home!”

Yixing chokes on his tea, “You did it?”

“I am certain I have.” Zitao grins, reaching out to squeeze Yifan’s shoulder, “You’re going back home.”

Yifan doesn’t say anything at all, instead he stands up from the table and nearly tips over his chair, “Excuse me.” he mutters, leaving the kitchen so quickly that Yixing barely processes it. The door to his room slams rather loudly in the awkward silence of his absence.

“He has a lot to think about,” Zitao decides as he stands up, “I’ll bring by the potion later.” he grins.

The apartment is silent for the rest of the afternoon, and Yixing barely focuses on the final draft of his manuscript. He’s just glad he has an editor and a publicist to double check all of the last comments so they catch the mistakes that Yixing misses. It gives him enough time to approve the printing of the book just in time to start cooking supper. However, instead of feeling fulfilled as he usually does when he submits the final draft a novel, he just feels empty and broken at the thought of Yifan going home.

Yixing walks down the hall sadly, his bunny slippers scuffing over the hardwood floor until he comes across a small notch in the flooring where Yifan had thrown the remote to the stereo after he accidentally turned it on. He thinks back fondly on the memory of Yifan hearing modern music for the first time and the way Yifan had completely jumped out of his skin. Yixing wants to smile about it, but his heart cracks a little bit instead.

As he passes Yifan’s room - er, the spare room - he stops to peek in through the crack of the door. Yifan is standing back towards him, holding up his old hanfu and studying it in the light. Yixing looks away before tears threaten to well in his eyes and, worse, fall down his face.

“Yifan,” Yixing calls gently, knocking on the door, “I’ll be in the kitchen, cooking supper.”

Yifan clears his throat, “I will be there...” he says, trailing off.

When Yifan enters the kitchen, Yixing is already cutting up steak into strips on a cutting board that is ‘specifically for meat’ - he remembers all too well the way Yixing had taught him which utensil was to be used for what. Instead of saying anything, he spots the rice in the rice cooker, which is another strange yet exciting invention he had learned to use, and realizes that Yixing is cooking stir fry. It’s his comfort food. Without asking, Yifan takes the vegetables out of the fridge and grabs a small sword (knife, whatever) and begins to to slice them for their meal.

They cook supper in silence. Yixing stands at the stovetop, frying steak in a pan while Yifan stands at the counter cutting up vegetables for the stirfry. Yixing feels the need to say something to Yifan, but he figures that Yifan needs time to think over the idea of going home now that the opportunity has been presented to him.

That and his heart feels heavy with the thought of Yifan leaving him. He’s not sure how he’ll get along without Yifan, because the man has brought life and entertainment to his little home. Yixing knows that it’s unfair to be upset at Yifan for probably leaving, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t want Yifan to go. Not now, not ever.

Lost in his thoughts, Yixing barely hears Yifan gasp slightly before dropping the knife on the countertop. He hears the clatter of the metal against the surface, and then the running of the tap water when he realizes something must be wrong. He looks over his shoulder and finds that Yifan is standing there with his hand stuck under the water and a splotch of blood on the sleeve of his shirt.

Yixing’s eyes widen and he turns off the burner, pushing the frying pan onto the back of the stove where the warmer is. He’s across the other side of the kitchen within a second, standing close to Yifan’s side and leaning over to look at the cut along his fingertip.

“Are you alright?” Yixing asks urgently, grasping Yifan’s hand and pulling it from under the running water to inspect his hand.

The cut along his finger is only very small, but it’s still bleeding. Yixing frets over it, but Yifan doesn’t really care much, can’t really care much with Yixing’s hand resting protectively on his back. His eyes are only focused on one thing and that’s Yixing’s face filled with worry. Yifan’s heart clenches in his chest.

“Yifan?” Yixing inquires, looking up at him, “Hello?”

Yifan blinks stupidly, but still doesn’t respond, because he can’t find the words that he wants to say. Instead, he cups Yixing’s jaw with his freehand and tilts his face upwards. Yixing’s heart comes to a stop as Yifan dips down to kiss him.

The kiss is soft, so soft that Yixing isn’t sure if he’s really being kissed at all, or if Yifan’s lips are just a breath away from his own. Yifan presses against him again, kisses more firmly so when Yixing’s heart finally starts again, it’s beating fiercely in his chest and pounding in his ears. He kisses back with all of the extra energy his beating heart has given him, causing Yifan to groan low in his throat.

Yixing reaches up to wrap his arms around Yifan’s neck to kiss him deeper, to pull Yifan closer. Yifan follows, resting his hands on Yixing’s hips and pulling him into him, groaning louder into the kiss when their bodies are flush against each other. Things are spinning out of control and the room grows hotter with each passing moment, making Yixing dizzy and lightheaded all at once. He knows that they should stop to take a breather, to talk about this, but Yixing had wanted this for so long that now that it’s happening, he doesn’t want it to end.

It’s Yifan that pulls away, reluctantly, when he needs to breathe, but his lips don’t fully leave Yixing’s. Their lips stay together and their bodies stay pressed as they pant heavily into each other. Yixing swallows hard, his head is still spinning and he can barely focus on anything other than how Yifan’s lips tasted. He wants to taste them again.

“I apologize, Yixing,” Yifan whispers against his lips, “I know that was out of turn and I know I am about to speak out of turn,” he breathes heavily, pressing his forehead against Yixing’s and staring into his eyes, “But I do not want to go home. I know this opportunity has finally presented itself and I have thought about it for a long time, but I do not want to leave. I want to stay here with you, because- because I- I have come to love you.”

Yixing’s eyes grow in size at the confession, but so does the smile on his face, “Do you?”

Yifan’s face becomes increasingly more red, “I do…”

Yixing leans back to take in all of Yifan’s face before he bites his lip, “You’re in luck,” he teases, pulling Yifan back to him, “Because I have come to love you too.” he whispers before he kisses Yifan again.

Everything escalates far too quickly. Yifan has Yixing placed on the countertop, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along his neck, making Yixing shiver with pleasure. Supper is long forgotten as Yixing wraps his legs around Yifan’s hips to pull him closer, to make their crotches press together. Yifan gasps against Yixing’s collarbone and a moan slips past Yixing’s lips in the heat of the moment. For a second, Yixing things that Yifan is going to take him right there, but-

“I’m coming in!” Zitao calls from the doorway.

Yixing and Yifan jump away from each other as fast as possible. As Zitao walks into the kitchen, Yifan stands with a knife in hand, dicing the peppers he had left behind before cutting himself. Yixing stands further away, at the stovetop, shifting the pan around and stirring the meat half-heartedly. Both are flushed in the face and are very terrible at hiding their arousal. It makes Zitao smirk.

“What’s cooking in here?” he asks suggestively as he slides up to Yixing.

“Stirfry,” Yixing squeaks and Zitao grins.

“You’ve got the burner turned off, Yixing,” he points out and Yixing realizes they’ve been caught.

“Get out,” Yixing gasps, grabbing Zitao by the shoulders and pushing him towards the front door.

“I guess you won’t be needing that spell to get you home, right Yifan?” Zitao calls as he’s ushered to the door.

Yifan, flustered, still manages to call out, “Only if Yixing intends to throw me out like he does to you!”

“W-Wait, I thought you said it was a potion?” Yixing blinks stupidly.

“Did I say that?” Zitao grins devilishly.

“There was never a way to send Yifan home,” Yixing realizes, gaping at Zitao.

Zitao snorts, “How else was I supposed to get you two to finally confess? Watching you dummies was almost painful, so I thought if the threat of losing each other wasn’t enough to make you spill your guts, then nothing would.”

“Oh my God, get out.” Yixing groans, “Out, out!”

Zitao laughs his way down the hall.

Yixing closes the door quickly, taking a deep, unsteady breath when two large hands grab his waist. Yifan spins Yixing around and presses him up against the door so hard that it bangs. Then Yifan’s lips are on Yixing’s in a second, kissing him like he needs Yixing to live and Yixing returns the kisses with the same amount of fervour.

“Can I take you to bed?” Yifan asks, nervously as he rubs Yixing’s hipbones with his thumbs and leaves small kisses along his jawline.

Yixing groans, “Yes, please.” he gasps.

Lube is a bit of a foreign concept to Yifan and he drips it everywhere as he tries to prepare Yixing. There’s a lot of gasping and giggling and Yixing guiding Yifan’s hands. They explore each other slowly, longing and desperate.

“That’s cold,” Yixing gasps and Yifan giggles shyly into Yixing’s neck.

“It feels good though,” Yifan mumbles in reply.

Yixing’s back arches off the bed, “Yes, yes.” he whines in agreement.

They stumble through their first time together, moaning and chuckling and loving as much as they can. But, damn, they’re good at what they do together. They must be if they’re both left breathless and glistening with an aftersex glow (sweat). Yixing rests his face on Yifan’s chest and closes his eyes sleepily as Yifan pulls Yixing closer, holds him tighter.

“What now?” Yifan asks, his fingers threading through Yixing’s hair.

Yixing huffs against Yifan’s chest and laughs, “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” Yifan chuckles, tilting Yixing’s chin up to kiss him, “Should we finish cooking supper?”

Yixing thinks for a moment and nods, “I’m going to have to get you a cookbook if you’re going to be staying around here.”

Yifan snickers, squishing Yixing’s face between his hands, “You will never be rid of me.”

“I’m glad,” Yixing manages to get out with his face squashed and Yifan laughs loudly.

“I love you.” Yifan whispers, leaning down to press his lips against Yixing’s again.

“I love you too.” Yixing sighs blissfully, running his hands down Yifan’s torso.

They don’t make it to the kitchen to finish cooking supper.

**Conclusion**

A week later, Yixing and Yifan find themselves at the bookstore in the mall. Yixing’s scarf looks cute around Yifan’s neck so he insisted that he wear it there. With his long black hair and Yixing’s styling choice, Yifan is gaining a lot of longing and interested looks. Except Yifan doesn’t notice as much as Yixing does, so when Yifan wraps his arm around Yixing’s waist, Yixing instantly relaxes.

“The cooking section is just down at the back-” Yixing pauses as Yifan comes to an abrupt halt at a display table at the front of the bookstore, “Yifan?”

“What is this?” Yifan asks curiously, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  
In his hands, he holds a book that reads ‘The 21st Century for Dummies written by Zhang Yixing.’

Yixing bursts into laughter as his cheeks burn, “Put that down.”

Yifan smiles wider, “Did you write this by any chance?”

“I may have,” Yixing mumbles, “Put it down, you’ll draw attention to us.”

“They are already staring,” Yifan whispers, coming closer with the book still in his hand.

“Then, should we give them something to stare at?” Yixing asks, shyly, reaching up to grab the collar of Yifan’s coat.

Yifan tilts Yixing’s chin up and slots their lips together in a slow kiss.

They forget to buy a cookbook.


End file.
